


Going, Going, Gone

by paradis



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, I guess that's how you'd tag it?, Kid!Fic, M/M, allusions to character death, no one is really dead though
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-17
Updated: 2012-11-21
Packaged: 2017-11-18 20:27:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,296
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/564953
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/paradis/pseuds/paradis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Sheriff comes up to him after the services. "I don't believe he's dead," he tells Derek.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This has three chapters and I'll post one each day because I'm still checking over the editing on the final two chapters. 
> 
> A million thanks to my beta/friend MirajaneScarlet who edited this probably six times, listened to my complaints about how I thought it was awful and told me it wasn't awful. 
> 
> The title is the same as the title of 9x01 of Grey's Anatomy for Mark Sloane-related reasons. If you're interested you can find me on tumblr; my URL is dylanobilinski.
> 
> **Trigger** for alleged character death, you can skip to the end notes for the spoilers if you need to.

They find the Jeep on the side of the road, just outside of town, still smoking from the flames.  
Actually, Derek doesn't find it at all. A state cop finds it and calls Stiles' dad when the three visible digits on Stiles' burnt out license plate match the description on the BOLO out for Stiles. Derek takes in the smoking jeep and the bloodied, tattered sweatshirt lying ten feet to the right like it just _flew_ out of the air when the car exploded. He stares and blinks against the flashing red and blue lights. He listens to Scott and the Sheriff and Lydia and Allison and Isaac’s sobs of despair and then he turns away and runs into the forest. When he's deep enough in, when there's nothing surrounding him but trees and snow, he lets out a howl of agony and despair.

Then he turns around and goes home to his and Stiles' daughter.

\--

Derek doesn't know how to say, _daddy’s dead_ , to a three year old little girl, so he lets Lydia tell her while he stands across the room with his arms crossed, trying to swallow back the lump in his throat. Lydia stoops down next to Ana with tear filled eyes and says in a trembling voice, "Daddy had to go away. He went to visit his mommy, Ana."

Ana stares at Lydia with her big brown eyes (Stiles' eyes) and her lower lip trembles as she asks, "Is he coming back, Auntie Lydia?" Lydia chokes on a sob and shakes her head and Derek feels like throwing up.

Ana bursts into tears and runs into Derek's arms, and Derek lifts her up and squeezes her so tightly he's afraid he's going to break her. He loosens up because she's the only part of Stiles he has left. He's not losing her, too.

\--

Anabelle Caroline Stilinski-Hale. Her first name for Stiles' mom, her second for Derek's. Stiles always joked how their next child could be named something silly after being so serious with their first one. Helicopter, he said, Orange, Strawberry, Audi, Shrek. Derek had snorted and shoved him lightly. Marvel! Stiles had shouted. DC! Jarvis! Derek had rolled his eyes and walked away, Stiles still shouting names.

But Anabelle is perfect in every way, name included, and the way she looks up at him when Derek slips her new black dress over her head makes his heart shatter. "Why are we going to this, Papa?"

Derek swallows. Stiles picked how she'd refer to them. His mother was half-Spanish; her mother grew up in Mexico, and Stiles’ mom called her father Papa. When Stiles picked it he told Derek he reminded Stiles of his grandfather. Stern, nearly always serious, worked hard all his life and never seemed to get enough in repayment.

"I got you," Derek had said. "You and Anabelle."

"You worked hard," Stiles had replied with the shadow of a smile.

Derek never wants to hear Anabelle call him Papa again but he doesn't know how to tell her without that sounding full of hatred for his own daughter. It might hurt to look at her (she has Stiles' eyes, his nose, his lips and his smile) but only because he loves them both so much.

\--

The Sheriff comes up to him after the services. "I don't believe he's dead," he tells Derek.

Derek presses his lips together and refuses to say, _I smelled it. Blood and pain and Stiles. Who could live through that?_ Instead he arches a brow and eyes Anabelle from the corner of his eye, where she's snuggling into Isaac.

"Stiles was a _good_ driver. Always cautious," the Sheriff continues.

"It was snowing."

"That doesn't mean anything. What if someone got him and made it look like that? To weaken the pack? To get to you? Or just to maim him," the Sheriff looks sick at his own suggestions.

"We looked," Derek reminds him. "It was three days before the jeep was found. We would've caught the trail and found him if he'd been taken."

"Well why did it take three days?" The Sheriff sounds frustrated and Derek bites back the urge to say, _Because no one looked hard enough_. "It's like the Jeep just appeared out of nowhere," he adds.

"Or maybe we were just looking in the wrong places." Derek says quietly. The Sheriff - Derek's _father in law_ \- looks pained.

"Don't say that," he whispers.

Derek closes his eyes and resists saying, _I’m sorry I’m sorry and it’s my fault_. Instead he breathes out. "I can't keep looking and hoping," he says. "When the end result is the same as it's ever been for me: no one will be there waiting." The Sheriff's eyes are tear filled.

"We've already lost too much," he says, and walks away. And Derek will let the Sheriff have this one night to drink himself into a stupor, because he's a widower and now he's outlived his son, too. But he reminds himself to send someone out to the house to check on the Sheriff tomorrow.

A man who outlived his son and a man who outlived everyone he's ever loved, save his own daughter. They make quite a pair, Derek thinks.

\--

They didn't rebuild the Hale House.

They tore it down and started new, Stiles like to say. They discarded any remains of the burnt out shell of a house and started fresh, combining both Stiles and Derek's ideas, along with a few from the pack. The end result is stunning. A beautiful crème colored, three story house, barn wood flooring, with an elegant color scheme, and a front and backyard kept bright and cheery with flowers in the spring and happy with Christmas lights all winter.

Derek loved it when it was finished.

Now he sort of wishes it would catch fire, too. Burn away just like everything he's ever had.

The taste of ash is thick in his mouth.

He swallows it back and tries to keep his daughter away from tasting that very same thing.

\--

"There was no DNA evidence!" the Sheriff shouts at Derek, pointing a finger. "Why can't you just accept that there's something weird about this? Do you _want_ him to be dead?"

Derek growls. "It's been six months," he tells him. "We haven't caught any trails and no one has come forward to barter with us for Stiles' life. _That’s_ why I don't believe what you're saying. The Jeep was a burnt out shell, still smoldering three days later. No one could have survived. _That’s_ why I don't believe it."

"He's alive," the Sheriff says shakily. Derek can smell the whiskey on his breath.

Anabelle is playing in the yard, talking to the sky. Derek catches the word 'Daddy,' every few sentences, and his heart constricts. She'll forget his face, Derek thinks. She's only three years old and she'll _forget_ what her daddy looks like. Derek wonders if he’ll forget Stiles' face, too. His mother's is a distant memory. Laura's is more recent, though it's still been years.

He doesn't want to forget. He doesn't want Anabelle to forget.

"What if he is?" he asks slowly, "how do we even start looking for him?"

The Sheriff sobs.

\--

They decide Stiles will be the donor. It's a surrogate carefully chosen from a select pool, who lives in the next town over. Stiles is twenty three and he wants a family before he feels too old, he tells Derek. They just married-mated-partnered (there's not a choice name to it, Derek thinks, except _Forever_ ), and the house is rebuilt with a gender neutral nursery already installed. The surrogate is a beautiful woman with good family genes and a soft smile Derek could imagine his child growing up to have. They sign paperwork and Stiles gives his donation. Two months later the surrogate calls and cheers with Stiles over the phone about their conception. When he hangs up he bounces on the bed and tucks a happy smile into Derek's neck as he snuggles down to sleep.

Derek can't seem to wipe his own smile off his face.

 _Family_ , he thinks, and vows not to lose it.

\--

With six months having passed it's harder to distinguish scents, Derek realizes. The wreckage of the Jeep is held in a small garage outside of town, and Derek is almost grateful that the Sheriff had insisted on keeping it when he and Jackson and Scott and Isaac all say the same thing.

"It doesn't _actually_ smell of death," Scott explains to the Sheriff. His brow is wrinkled in confusion so Derek steps up to explain more.

"What we're saying is whoever did this used a massive amount of Stiles' blood - which would have meant severe blood loss, which would have meant the smell of death."

"But fainter," Scott says.

"But just there enough to fool us into thinking he was dead," Derek finishes.

The Sheriff's eyes harden. "Who the hell did this?" He demands.

Scott is the first to speak after a long moment. "There's no other scent but Stiles, Sheriff Stilinski."

They follow each other out the door in the deafening silence, each of them trying to fathom why Stiles would ever want to fake his death. Derek swallows back feelings of guilt, like maybe he pushed too much on Stiles too soon.

He picks up Anabelle from Lydia and Jackson's apartment and heads home. Isaac is already in the kitchen, popping a frozen pizza in the oven. "That's not healthy," Derek growls. As he says it Isaac pulls a bag of steamed broccoli from the microwave.

"Don't worry," he says, "I'm making sure Ana gets her veggies too."

Once upon a time Stiles did all the cooking. He would come home from the crime lab where he worked and pick up Ana from the daycare or Lydia’s apartment. He made huge meals of lasagna and roast beef and turkey and chicken. Homemade mashed potatoes, homemade bread, and always a vegetable prepared in a way that was always delicious to eat. Stiles was the only one who could convince Ana to eat her vegetables. Ana tells Derek later that daddy put something special in the vegetables, and Derek believes her but he hasn't figured it out yet.

Derek never really learned to cook, choosing to live off microwaved meals and pizza rolls before Stiles, and every time he tried to cook with Stiles, a disaster ensued. Isaac's best meal is boxed Mac n' Cheese, but it's a step up from Derek's cooking skills.

He doesn't know how either of them have gotten by this long without Stiles.

"Ana," Isaac calls, "dinner time."

Derek hears Ana bound down the steps and skips into the kitchen. She sniffs the air once and wrinkles her nose. "Pizza and broccoli," she whines, "gross." It's in her tiny three year old voice so some sounds are slurred together, but she definitely got Stiles' ability to talk, able to carry on a full conversation since she was two and a half.

"Gotta have your veggies," Isaac says, winking at her.

"Yours are better than Papa's," she agrees, nodding solemnly, and Derek suppresses a sigh. He scoops her up and tugs on her braid lightly.

"Let's set the dinner table, huh?" He asks her, and she nods, kissing him on the cheek before wriggling to get down once again. They set the dinner table in silence, and Ana picks are her broccoli but eats two whole pieces of pizza, which Derek considers a win, honestly. Since Stiles has been gone, he’s lucky if he can get Ana to eat whole meals most days, but she must sense the energy in the air, so she’s decided to behave, Derek thinks. 

“Daddy ‘m done,” she mumbles, setting her fork down. Isaac finishes at the same time and clears his throat. 

“I’m done, too, Ana. Can I tuck you in tonight? Daddy and I need to talk and he’s still not finished with his dinner.” Ana seems to think it over for a moment before she nods her head. 

“Sure, Uncle Isaac,” she says, and takes his hand, letting him lead her up the stairs. Derek sits in the silence of his dining room and stares at the walls, still picking at his own pizza, thinking about all the possibilities for Stiles. 

He doesn’t know where he could be, but he’s determined to find him.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jake comes to visit him that night. “It’s not working,” he says, eyes glowing. 
> 
> “That’s not my fault,” Stiles says, tapping his foot and staring down at the floor instead of into Jake’s eyes. “I don’t know what’s wrong. Maybe you bought generic mountain ash.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is in Stiles' POV; the next chapter will be Derek's again. 
> 
> It's also set up like Derek's chapters, flashing between present and past. 
> 
> Thank you to my beta MirajaneScarlet, as always. :) 
> 
> **Trigger** for canon-like violence - nothing more gruesome.

They threaten him with his _family’s_ lives. They show him photographs and tell him in detail what they’ll do to them if he doesn’t cooperate and come with them. When he asks how they plan to explain it – because he _knows_ Derek will come after him – the Alpha just smirks. “Don’t worry,” he says to Stiles, “we’ve got it all planned out.”

Stiles thinks about Anabelle, about Derek, about how he couldn’t live without either of them in his lives, couldn’t imagine a world in which they didn’t exist, and decides then that he’ll go with this pack. Derek will come looking for him anyways, Stiles knows.

That is, until he learns about the Alpha’s plan. “You can’t do that to him,” Stiles spits out, struggling against the two Betas holding him back. “You cannot let him think that his _mate_ , the love of his life is _dead._ " The Alpha shakes his head. 

“You don’t know me too well then, do you?” he asks him. He circles Stiles, watching him carefully. “I’ve done it before,” he says simply. “And I’ll do it again.”

The drag him out East. They don’t turn him; instead they tell him that they needed him because he was human, an Alpha’s mate, and strong. Smart and witty and strong, everything they needed. They’re not all bad, Stiles thinks. They give him a room decent enough in the house they’re staying in, and he gets to wander around the house freely. He’s not allowed outside though. It’s hard for Stiles, who has always been free to do pretty much whatever he wants, and has endless amounts of energy. 

The pack that kidnapped him has been in a territorial war for the last four years. They took time to realize their weaknesses and reevaluated. They needed people, their Alpha told Stiles. People with special strengths and skills. Humans and werewolves alike. The way Stiles understands it, they’ve been kidnapping mates of other Alphas for the last two years.

There’s a pattern, Stiles tells himself. There’s a pattern, and he has Lydia to look for him, who is just as smart as he is, and will figure it out. 

There’s a pattern and that means that Stiles will get out of this and get to go home to his family, to his daughter and _Derek._

==

When Ana turns one, Stiles cries for an hour straight. He doesn’t know why; Stiles hardly ever cries. He’s an emotional person but it never really extends to tears, except, apparently, today. He’s crying for a mix of reasons, he realizes as he wipes his nose for the fourth time in just as many minutes. He’s crying because a year has gone by and Ana is growing up before his eyes. He’s crying because his mother isn’t there to see her granddaughter and the life Stiles has built. He’s crying because he’s happy and that’s the best thing of all.

Fifteen minutes into his crying jag, Derek walks through the door holding Ana’s birthday cake… and promptly drops it on the floor when he hears Stiles’ sobs in the living room. Stiles starts crying harder when he realizes the cake is ruined, and Derek runs in, looking alarmed. He does a full body check over Stiles, and then rushes forward. 

“What’s wrong?” he asks in a low voice, hands running frantically over Stiles’ body, just to double check. “What’s wrong, Stiles, what’s wrong? What happened?”

“You ruined the _cake_ ,” Stiles wails, burying his face in Derek’s shoulder. “You ruined the cake and Ana’s growing up and we’re getting _old._ ” He keeps sobbing, and Derek tenses up for a minute before breathing out a sigh of relief.

“You’re not hurt,” he states, happy, moving his arms to wrap around Stiles’ shaking frame. “Jesus, Stiles, I thought you were _hurt._ ” 

Stiles sobs again. Derek runs a hand up and down his back and kisses the top of his head, murmuring absolutely meaningless things in his ear, trying to soothe him. When Stiles finally calms down, Derek pulls back so he can look into his eyes. “It’s okay,” Derek says. “No one is going anywhere, no matter how old we get or how fast time passes. Okay, Stiles?” 

Stiles can’t help it. He bursts into tears again, this time purely relieved. 

==

Stiles is exhausted. He’s running on no sleep, he’s used up all his energy running a line of mountain ash the whole way around the pack’s property, a Beta following him the entire time, ready for any little sneaky thing Stiles might have tried to do. “One step out of line,” Jake had threatened, “and your daughter is dead. I’ve got two of my Betas sticking around Beacon Hills just to make sure,” he had added. 

Jake is wickedly handsome, something that kind of disgusts Stiles. He has an air of charm about him that says he _could_ get all the help he needed with a wink and a smile, until he opens his mouth. When he opens his mouth he sounds cruel and careless, reckless and filled with bloodlust. Stiles gets sick sometimes when he thinks about Ana having to hear that voice, and makes a promise that he’ll cooperate as much as he possibly can. 

It’s only been a week, but they’ve had Stiles doing things since the moment he was pulled out of the truck and into the house. Things to protect the house, things to protect the property. Forcing him to handle wolfsbane bullets and arrows. They watch him carefully, ensuring that Stiles can’t do anything stupid or silly, like try and stab or shoot someone to get free. Stiles _isn’t_ stupid or silly, because he never once even makes the motion to act out. He envisions it – vividly, but he never acts on it. 

Jake mostly leaves him alone but there are a few Betas that track his every move around the house. Alyssa and Evan are the ones that Stiles feels the worst for, because they were born into Jake’s pack. Jake’s father was the Alpha first, killed when the territory war first began. Stiles knows Jake wasn’t prepared for this, and he tries to remember that, but he can’t cut him any slack for kidnapping him and faking his death. 

He can’t cut Jake any slack for taking him from his family and ripping their hearts apart. 

==

For all that Derek is emotionally stunted, he’s made all the first moves, though he’ll never admit it. He kissed Stiles first. He pulled Stiles’ shirt off first. He told Stiles _I love you_ first. He asked Stiles to be his boyfriend/partner/mate before Stiles even had the nerve to think about _forever._

But there’s one time Stiles is first to do something, and it shocks Derek. 

“I want to have children,” Stiles blurts out one night when they’re in bed, holding hands and staring at the television. Craig Ferguson is shamelessly flirting with Kristen Bell on the screen as Stiles looks up at Derek from his position on his chest, through his eyelashes. Derek’s breath catches. “I know I’m young – that we’re young. But – Derek. I don’t want to be _old_ when I have children, either. I want to be lively and happy and energetic. I want to be able to run around with them. I want a little boy or girl who has mine and my mom’s eyes, but your attitude. It’ll be a challenge, but that’s what makes it so amazing. It’s worth it in the end.” 

“Something tells me you’ll always be lively and happy and energetic,” Derek murmurs, pushing Stiles’ hair back, pulling it forward, and doing it all again. Stiles likes his hair grown out because Derek’s favorite thing to do in bed at night is play with it until he falls asleep, and Stiles always wakes up looking like he stuck his finger in an electric socket in the middle of the night. But it’s soothing, and that’s what counts.

“Derek,” Stiles huffs. 

Derek smirks. “You really want a family with me?” he asks. He swallows. “Kids?”

Stiles nuzzles his nose into Derek’s warm skin, kisses his stomach, and nods. “We already have a family. I just want it to be bigger. Crazier. More hectic, if you please. I want a piece of you and I to carry on forever.”

Derek smiles, then stretches like he’s a cat instead of a werewolf. He pulls Stiles up, so their lips are nearly touching, and whispers, “Thank you for giving me this,” before he kisses Stiles.

And Stiles doesn’t say it, but he knows Derek understands it in the way Stiles kisses him, harder, more affectionate. Stiles is saying, _thank you. Thank you for giving_ me _this._

==

When it reaches the three month mark, when Stiles mouths off a little more than he normally has been and takes a couple fists to the face, and a few kicks to the ribs; that’s when Stiles starts to lose hope. No one has come yet, and Stiles is still doing all this work for Jake’s pack. He’s watching more kidnapped mates of Alphas of other packs get led into the house with a hopeless feeling. They’re never allowed to interact. Stiles has caught a glimpse of a few of the others a few times, but he’s never gotten close enough to talk to them before one or the other is whisked away to be used for their particular skills. Stiles does know he’s the only human mate that’s been kidnapped so far, which both confuses him and gives him a sense of relief. 

He’s lying in the tiny, narrow bed, staring up at the ceiling and praying for his ribs to stop throbbing to the tune of his heartbeat, when he hears commotion out in the hallway and snarling, then some shouting. He blows out a sigh and gently lifts himself off the bed, limping over to the door and opening it a crack. 

In the hallway, Jake is snarling and pinning down one of the other kidnapped mates. He thrashes, growls, and snarls, fighting against Jake’s hold on him. “You will be done,” Jake snarls in his lowest, most commanding Alpha tone, and even Stiles, who is not a werewolf, shudders at it. The wolf beneath Jake must be strong, though, because he thrashes against him, snarling some more and managing to get a claw loose from Jake’s grip to slash it against his face. Jake whips his head to the side, breathless for a moment, before he turns back, letting a loud roar loose from his chest. He reaches down, swipes his claws across the kidnapped wolf’s throat. There’s a dying whimper from him before he’s gone, eyes fading from the golden, crisp color of a turned werewolf, to what Stiles assumes is his normal eye color, before dying. 

Stiles doesn’t breathe. He doesn’t move from where he’s standing, peeking behind his bedroom door. He doesn’t shout, or cry, or scream, and fear doesn’t pound through him. He’s completely numb, no feeling left inside him for the man that just died, no hatred soaring through him for Jake. He meets Jake’s eyes when he notices Jake has seen him watching. Then Jake stands up, wipes the blood from his mouth, brushes both hands across his jeans, smearing crimson across the denim in the process, and clears his throat. His entire pack is standing there waiting for their orders. Jake says, “Now you know what to do when they fight,” and strides out of the hallway.

Stiles gulps in a big breath of air, shuts his door, and curls up in the corner of his tiny room. 

He wishes Derek was here. He wishes Derek would _find_ him. He wishes he didn’t have to worry so much about pleasing Jake and his pack so that Anabelle and Derek don’t end up in danger, or worse, _dead,_ their bodies lying at Stiles’ feet and that same cruel grimace twisting Jake’s face as he presents them to Stiles. It’s a continuous nightmare that Stiles has. 

He doesn’t sleep anymore. 

==

It’s not often that Stiles gets kidnapped, but it’s happened two times before. Derek usually finds him pretty quickly. The second time he’s kidnapped is three weeks after Ana is born, when Stiles slips out of the house on a late night run to the Quik Mart to get some milk and diapers. When he steps out of the store suddenly they’re there, rogue hunters looking to get into someone’s good graces, looking to get information out of Stiles. 

Derek has worked rigorously to teach Stiles how to fight, how to get in all the good kicks and punches, and he forces Stiles to wear a knife on him at all times, but Stiles didn’t think to grab it because it was _two o’clock in the morning,_ and he’s sluggish with tiredness, so he’s weak when they he tries to fight. He gets dragged to the back of their unmarked white van, and shoved inside. He tries to shout but they gag him. 

They don’t get far though. Derek has a freaky sixth sense and when Stiles doesn’t return home in fifteen minutes, like he swore he would, Derek’s hackles raise, and he apparently sends the pack to search for him. He finds Stiles first, and it is only by sheer force of will that Stiles manages to stop Derek from killing the hunters who took him. Still. A few won’t be walking for a while, Stiles observes as Derek pulls him into a standing position, runs his hands all over Stiles, and sniffs his neck like he can _smell_ whether Stiles has been injured. “’m fine,” Stiles mumbles. “Wait – where’s Ana?” he demands, pulling away. “You did _not_ leave our three week old daughter home alone when you came looking, did you?” 

Derek’s eyebrows furrow, “No Stiles, of course not. Scott’s with her, okay? Scott and Lydia.” Stiles breathes out a sigh of relief. 

“Yeah,” he murmurs. He leans into Derek, suddenly exhausted. “Tired,” he mumbles into Derek’s shirt.

“I know,” Derek whispers, rubbing his hands along Stiles’ back. “I’m getting you home and you’re sleeping and you’re not leaving my sight,” he growls. Stiles nods. He knows Derek needs this, especially when something has threatened harm to him. He knows Derek needs to trust that he’s still right there, that he hasn’t _lost_ him. 

Derek says, “I’m never letting this happen again.” Stiles agrees, even though he knows that’s not entirely plausible in the world they live in.

==

At the six month mark, Stiles has resigned himself to the fact that he’s stuck trailing handfuls of mountain ash behind him, and making wolfsbane bullets for possibly the rest of his life. _A human slave for a werewolf pack,_ he thinks. 

Mountain ash is all about belief and the sad fact is that Stiles can’t summon up the belief – the _spark_ – for the mountain ash to work. Which explains why the other pack of werewolves keeps breaking through the line without much effort and attacking. Two days ago Stiles overheard Jake about getting more werewolves for his pack and swallowed back the bitter taste in his mouth that said it was his fault because he can’t summon enough belief to keep the rival pack away so Jake doesn’t keep turning unwilling humans. 

Jake comes to visit him that night. “It’s not working,” he says, eyes glowing. 

“That’s not my fault,” Stiles says, tapping his foot and staring down at the floor instead of into Jake’s eyes. “I don’t know what’s wrong. Maybe you bought generic mountain ash.” 

Jake strikes a hand across his face with just a hint of claws so that they scratch across his cheek, leaving a weak trickle of blood dripping down. It takes Stiles’ breath away, even though he should be used to it by now – after all, his mouth gets him into trouble often enough, God knows. The _fuck you_ is on his tongue, but three broken ribs last month taught him that was no longer acceptable, so he bites down on his lip and stares at the wall straight ahead of him.

“I’d watch the tone.” Jake sneers. “And I’m getting impatient, so it would be in your best _interests_ to make sure it starts working, Stiles.” 

And he disappears from the room. Stiles sinks down to the floor and curls his knees up to his chest, resting his chin on them. 

He’s tired. 

And no one has come for him yet.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s Scott that finds it first. 
> 
> “There’s a pattern,” Scott says, pushing a folder towards Derek when he sits down at the table for their weekly meeting. His mind screams, _we’re running out of time it’s already been three weeks he could be dead. If he’s not dead already._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HA.   
> Why is this chapter 7k long when the other two barely broke 2k? I'm not entirely sure. Technically I could've done four chapters but I was focusing on alternating POV's between Stiles and Derek and that would've screwed the whole fic up because the final chapter is completely in Derek's POV.
> 
> Also, sorry this took so long to post the final chapter, and for the fact that it's not that great but. It is what it is.   
> Thanks for reading. :)

Derek knows logically that a plan needs to be set in motion before they can even start to find Stiles. But there’s an itch under his skin that says they are _wasting time_ , and he can’t help but run around their territory a couple times, trying to catch an unfamiliar scent. Isaac stays with Ana while Lydia does copious amounts of research. Sometimes Scott runs the border with him, other times he’s busy with the Sheriff, looking into all the missing persons and recent deaths that may have been suspicious, to see if there’s a pattern. 

It’s Scott that finds it first. 

“There’s a pattern,” Scott says, pushing a folder towards Derek when he sits down at the table for their weekly meeting. His mind screams, _we’re running out of time it’s already been three weeks he could be dead. If he’s not dead already._

“What kind of pattern?” Derek keeps his voice steady as he opens the folder and stares down at the pictures of car crashes, house fires, and missing persons posters. Every report that is written about the car explosions and house fires say the same thing, _believed to be dead,_ and Derek looks down at them and feels like screaming. 

“Lydia looked into it when I noticed they were all in the same area, Derek,” Scott says. “They’re in areas of known werewolf packs.”

“What,” Derek says flatly. “What the _hell_ does that mean?” 

Lydia breezes into the room, coming back from tucking Ana in. She sits down, takes the file and looks over it for a moment. “I called a few of the packs, asked if they had any wolves that had died or gone missing. They were…” She snaps her eyes up to meet Derek’s and says firmly, calmly, “They were the mates of Alphas, Derek. Strong mates of their packs Alphas.” 

Derek’s heart skips a beat and his mouth goes dry. “They’re kidnapping mates of Alphas,” he repeats. “For what?” 

Lydia shrugs. “That’s the part I can’t figure out. I know they’re mates of Alphas. None of them are human except for Stiles. All strong fighters – even Stiles.” Derek glowers at her and she rolls her eyes. “You know as well as I do that Stiles can handle his own in a fight, and not just with a gun, either. He’s surprisingly coordinated. He wouldn’t have just let them take him without a fight.” 

“Yeah,” Derek says slowly. “… But. He _did_ just let them take him without a fight, Lydia.” Lydia blinks at him, lips parted, and Derek huffs out a breath. “Lydia, he had Ana and me waiting for him at home. But instead of trying to get to us that day he – he let them fake his death.” 

Lydia thinks about it for a moment, and then she says just as slowly, “They threatened you.” The realization dawns on Scott at the exact same moment, and he gasps a little.

“They threatened you and Ana, that’s why Stiles let himself be taken,” Scott says. “That’s why he went with them, Derek – he went with them because they were going to kill you if he didn’t!” Scott is excited, bouncing around on his feet, but Derek is staring down at the table, at all the files in front of him.

“Derek, what do we do?” Lydia asks quietly. 

“There’s a scent,” Derek says, fingering the edges of the picture of Stiles’ burnt out jeep. “On the edge of the border, just barely there. Like they’re skimming the border, waiting for orders.” 

“They’re waiting for the call to kill us,” Lydia says. Derek nods. “Which means the Alpha that kidnapped Stiles isn’t bluffing. One toe out of line and he’ll kill you and Ana and drag your bodies back to set them in front of Stiles. That’s why Stiles hasn’t tried to get to us, or contact us.” 

“And we don’t know how badly he’s hurt,” Scott adds. 

Derek shakes his head, not wanting to think about that. Suddenly, the prospect of Stiles being alive seems so near, right _there_ , like Derek could almost touch it, but it’s just out of reach, and he doesn’t want it to disappear completely. He swallows. “We can’t afford to think about him being hurt. We just need to find the people running along our border.”

“And do what?” Lydia asks, but she’s studying her nails with a wicked, pleased grin that says she already knows exactly what they’re going to do to them, and they won’t be making it out of Derek’s hold alive. 

“Find out where Stiles is.” 

==

Scott goes to tell the Sheriff what they’ve discovered, and Derek, Jackson, and Isaac run the border of the Hale territory while Lydia talks to the Alphas of all the missing mates and discusses getting together to fight. Derek knows that they’re probably in for a couple long nights of running the border before they can get their hands on the pack’s Betas. 

The fourth night in, Jackson catches a fresh scent and they run towards it. Scott is there, too, so it’s hardly a fight when they see the Betas running and push them into Hale territory so they can catch them. Derek lands with a snarl, tackling the first Beta into the ground while Jackson swipes his claws across the second Beta’s ankle, deeply and painfully enough to send him sprawling to the ground, where both Scott and Isaac hold him. Derek roars, and the Beta he’s holding flinches and submits to him. Derek stands up and turns to Jackson. “Let’s get them back. I want them in the basement.”

Jackson’s eyes widen and he nods, helping Derek pull them back. 

When they reach the house Lydia is, waiting on the porch. “I heard the roars,” she said, looking at Derek approvingly. “Basement’s ready. And Derek.” she adds a cruel grin. “Don’t forget to let me have a few minutes with them.” Then she turns, her heels clicking against the floor as she makes her way deeper into the house. 

Derek pulls the Betas around the house and drags them to the basement door. He shoves them down the stairs roughly and follows them down at a slower pace. They’re lying still, bruised, and broken, but healing, on the floor, cowering as they wait for Derek’s next move. “Get up,” Derek growls. The rest of the pack stands behind Derek, arms crossed, waiting for their own orders. 

When the Betas don’t move, Derek turns to Jackson and Scott. “Tie them up. Make sure they’re tight. I’ll be back in a minute.” 

They nod and move forward to grab them. 

Derek wanders upstairs and into the kitchen. He leans against the counter, hands gripping the edges tightly, and breathes in and out slowly, trying to control the anger boiling up underneath his skin. 

He wasn’t angry when Stiles’ Jeep was found; when they presumed him dead from the explosion, Derek felt nothing but grief – it was so unlike how he’d felt after his family’s deaths, that everyone around him was nervous for a while. But Derek grieved Stiles properly, thinking that the explosion was just a complete accident, a result of Stiles driving off the road. Now, his anger is rising quick and deep, burning underneath his skin, pushing to get through and escape into the air; to destroy everyone around him. 

Derek focuses on simmering it down.

When he’s sure he’s calm, he walks back down to the basement. He knows Lydia took Ana out of the house for the rest of the day, so he’s safe from worrying about her while he works on finding Stiles. 

The two Betas are chained up tightly, glaring at Derek’s own Betas as they stand guard waiting for Derek to return. When he steps into the room, Isaac gives him a grim smile. “They didn’t tell us anything yet, Derek.” 

Derek swallows, eyes slowly starting to glow red. “They will,” he snarls, turning his attention to the Betas. 

“Start talking,” he tells them, “or there are going to be some problems.” 

The first Beta smirks. “There’s already a problem though, isn’t there?” he mocks, “You’re mate is _gone,_ Alpha. He’s _dead,_ for all you know.” Derek punches him before he’s even thought about it, and he keeps hitting, until there’s blood running slick between his fingers, and the crunch of bone echoes through the basement. Derek starts kicking the Beta’s ribs and he doesn’t even notice he’s doing it until he hears the crack signaling that they’re broke. The Beta grunts and groans in pain underneath him, and Derek _keeps hitting,_ until Isaac steps forward.

“Derek,” he says, and sounds nervous. Derek keeps hitting.

Jackson steps forward finally and places a calming hand on his shoulder. “Derek, he needs his mouth to talk and if every bone in his jaw is broken, we’ll lose more time to find Stiles. By then, something will have signaled them that we’ve got their wolves.” 

Derek exhales a deep breath and closes his eyes. He snaps them open and stoops down next to the bruised and bleeding Beta. “You kidnap mates,” he says calmly. “You kidnap the mates of Alphas and take them back to your pack, don’t you? You threaten them with their Alpha – _their_ mates’ lives, and force them to come with you.” He tilts the Beta’s chin up so he’s looking him dead in the eye. “What did you do with him? What did you do with _them_?” 

The Beta spits blood. “I’d never tell you,” he says, gasping from the pain. “You can do whatever you want. I won’t tell you.” 

Derek takes that as permission to start on the other Beta. 

He’s just as broken and bleeding when Derek’s done with him, the anger inside him a constant inferno, feeding him the energy to keep going in hopes of getting information out of either of them. They haven’t cracked yet, and they show little sign of weakening; Derek can tell. Derek steps back, takes in the blood stained concrete, and the blood smeared across both Betas faces. “Leave them,” he says, staring down at his own bloodied hands. “Leave them for Lydia.” 

He walks back up the stairs. He goes straight to the bathroom and gets in the shower after peeling his clothes off. He stands under the water, staring at the floor of the shower, where red bleeds into orange bleeds into clear water as the blood falls down the drain. He’s not sure how long he’s in the shower but when he finally gets out and comes downstairs, Lydia is in the living room, helping Ana color a page out of her Princess Dora coloring book. 

“Papa!” Ana calls out, a huge grin crossing her face. Derek smiles down at her and sits on the couch next to Lydia. “Auntie Lydia said you had to work today.” She looks confused, like she’s wondering why Derek is home so early. 

Derek reaches over and pulls Ana into his lap, and nuzzles his nose against the top of her head. “I came home to see you, Anabelle.” Ana beams at him, then plucks the coloring book out of Lydia’s hands and shoves it against Derek. 

“Help me color, Papa,” she says, demanding tone and all. 

Derek smothers his smile. “Please,” he reprimands, and she frowns at him a moment. 

Finally she says, “Please.” Derek reaches for a crayon and starts coloring Princess Dora’s dress a lilac color. 

Ana colors her hair in brown and absentmindedly says, “I like Dora’s hair _long,_ it’s prettier.” 

“It’s very pretty,” Derek agrees lightly. “Not as pretty as yours, though.” He tugs on one of her long braids, and offers her a grin. 

Ana beams back at him. 

The anger is still there, simmering again, underneath his skin, under control with Ana so near him, there to ground him, just like she and Stiles have always done. 

Anchors, Derek thinks. Reminders. Safety. 

==

When Ana is a year and a half old, she gets sick with the flu. No one can figure out just where she got it, because she’s surrounded by immune werewolves on a daily basis, and Stiles and Lydia got the flu shot for themselves to make sure they didn’t bring it home. Regardless of their caution, Ana still gets it, and she’s up day and night puking and running a fever.

Derek is a bundle of nerves. 

He doesn’t know how to stop himself from snapping, losing control out of pure fear. At one point he’s so worried and nervous that when Stiles says something, he snaps back, “She shouldn’t have been born human!” and Stiles’ eyes harden. 

“We both decided that it would be _her_ decision when _she_ was old enough to make it, Derek.” Stiles’ tone is cold, hard, and filled with anger, and Derek already regretted it the moment it fell from his mouth, but now Derek wishes he could rewind time and stop himself from ever saying what he’s just said. 

Derek blinks at him, wringing his hands together for a moment; lips parted like an apology wants to slip free, but won’t escape his throat. Stiles continues, “We discussed this, Derek. We discussed it for _months_ , and you agreed.” 

Derek moves his gaze down to the floor, blinking at it instead. In her crib, Ana sniffles miserably in her sleep – the one hour Derek knows she will get tonight. “I’m sorry,” he blurts out suddenly. It’s like he doesn’t even realize he’s said it, because he keeps talking, “I’m scared, Stiles. None of my family was ever sick – I had human relatives but they never really got sick either. That I noticed,” he adds. 

Stiles purses his lips and stares at Derek with what Derek privately refers to as his ‘You were a deprived child,’ look, even though Derek has explained _hundreds_ of times that he was never deprived, things just worked differently in his family. Finally he says, “It’s okay to be scared, Derek. She’s our daughter. I’m going out of my mind worrying about her right now.”

“I didn’t mean it,” Derek mumbles, “I’m… I’m glad she’s got you in her, Stiles. She never would have been… so _perfect_ if she wasn’t yours, Stiles.” 

Stiles shifts on his feet before stumbling over to Derek and wrapping his arms around Derek’s waist. He rubs his nose against Derek’s tee shirt, not saying anything for a moment as they just breath each other in. “She would have been just as amazing, Derek,” he finally whispers. “More amazing, even, because she would have been strong and fast and a fighter.”

Derek swallows, “She is all of those things,” he says hoarsely, and the grip Stiles’ has on his waist tightens for a moment. 

“I never want her to end up without a parent,” Stiles confesses a couple moments later. “Parents balance each other out. They make it a steady home to be in. Derek – you and I – we know what that’s like. Just… tell me she’ll never be without one of us.” He looks at Derek, with honest to god fear, the kind that Derek hasn’t seen in Stiles in a long time, shining in his eyes brightly. 

“Promise,” Derek murmurs, reaching out and running a finger along Stiles’ cheek before pulling him in to kiss him soundly. 

==

Derek takes Ana upstairs after dinner, reads her a book, and tucks her into bed. “Papa,” she murmurs sleepily as Derek is about to walk away and turn the light off, “say it.” Derek swallows. 

“’Night sweet angel,” he whispers, leaning down and kissing her forehead, brushing her long hair back from her face. “Daddy’s looking out for you,” he says dutifully, and walks out of the room, flicking the light out on his way. 

He walks downstairs and finds Lydia and Jackson in the kitchen finishing up the dishes. “We were just talking,” Jackson says. “About maybe having Lydia go downstairs for a little bit.” He shoots Derek a meaningful look. Isaac and Scott had eaten quickly and gone back downstairs to watch over the Betas. Derek knows what Jackson is implying – that Derek doesn’t have enough self-control to keep himself from killing the Betas this time – so Derek thinks it over for a long moment, even though he knows deep down he was always planning to let Lydia have a word with them if he couldn’t get anything out of them. 

“The three of you stay down there while she works,” Derek instructs. “The second anything looks like it might go awry, you come get me – I mean it, Lydia.” He pins his gaze on Lydia, who is giving him a grim, please smile. 

She looks absolutely wicked, Derek decides, and hopes that will get them the information they need. 

Lydia says, “I know what I’m doing, Derek. Go be weird and watch your daughter sleep like I know you want to.” 

Derek growls. “I’m not being creepy I’m –” Lydia cuts him off with a roll of her eyes and a shove towards the staircase. 

“We’ll call if we need you,” she says firmly, and disappears down the stairs. Jackson shakes his head at Derek, then pats him on the shoulder on his way to follow Lydia. 

Derek makes his way up the stairs and stands in the doorway of Anabelle’s room. She sleeps almost exactly like Stiles sleeps, Derek has realized recently. She snuffles her nose into the pillows, smacks her lips together on a particularly good dream, and snores very lightly, her lips open in a half moon, breathing out her mouth. She clutches the stuffed Dora doll that Lydia bought her when she turned one, and has the covers wrapped around her up over her shoulders. She fidgets constantly in her sleep. 

Stiles sleeps the same way, Derek knows, unless Derek is there to hold him and keep him calm in his sleep. He wonders if Ana will calm down when someone is there to hold her in her sleep. She never moves this much when she sleeps in Derek and Stiles’ bed, he knows, so the answer is probably yes. 

He shifts on his feet and crosses and uncrosses his arms, resisting the urge to pick her up and carry her to his room, to let her sleep in his and Stiles’ bed, to know that she’s safe for another night. 

After two more minutes, Derek blows out a sigh and gives in, walking forward into Ana’s room, lifting her covers, and pulling her out. Ana snuffles and rubs her nose against Derek’s bicep as he carries her out. “Mm, Daddy,” she sighs in her sleep, and Derek freezes, his heart skipping a beat. “Love you, Daddy,” she mumbles and Derek feels his heart pounding. He gets her to his and Stiles’ room, lays her down on the bed, and kisses her forehead.

“Daddy loves you too, Anabelle,” he whispers, before he climbs in on the other side and stares up at the ceiling. 

==

Stiles was the person who usually tucked Ana in. Derek was a morning person, always waking up with Ana at the crack of dawn, pulling out clothes for her to wear, making sure she ate a decent breakfast, going over her alphabet with her as she dutifully ate her cereal when she learned to talk. They talked about what they would do that day, she talked about how she wanted to go to Lydia’s _all_ the time instead of the daycare with the mean teacher. It was Derek and Ana’s bonding time, Stiles called it, and he found it adorable. 

When Stiles is called away to the next town over, to help with a massive serial murder case, Derek is left to tuck Ana in himself for the next three nights, and he’s a mess. Ana screams and cries and howls about how he’s doing it all wrong, she’s supposed to get her bath _before_ her story, and Daddy always puts bubbles in it and washes her hair for her. It’s all in a two year olds stilted speech, and Derek understands maybe half of it total, but he tries his best.

He dumps the entire thing of bubbles into the tub on accident, resulting in a huge mess on the bathroom floor. He washes Ana’s hair but gets suds in her eyes so much that she’s crying even after he rinses them out. He reads her a story but it’s the wrong one, it’s not _Goodnight Moon,_ so it’s not as good, and he can’t find Goodnight Moon to read to her. 

He shuts her light off and kisses her forehead like he always sees Stiles do. But he’s walking out of the room and Ana says, “You have to say it, Papa,” and sniffles, rubbing her nose against the pillow. 

“Say what?” Derek asks blankly. 

“Say you love me!”

“I love you, Ana. Of course I do,” he says. 

Ana shakes her head hard, and sits up a little, “You have to say, ‘Papa loves you,’ and then turn the lights off so my butterflies light up.” 

“I –” Derek closes his mouth with a click and stares at her wide amber eyes for a moment. He says softly, “Papa loves you,” and turns the light off. The glow in the dark wings of probably hundreds of butterflies on Ana’s walls light up.

He hears Ana settle back down, already drifting off. 

He’s not great at bedtime the entire time Stiles is gone, and when Stiles comes home and tucks Ana in that night, Derek stands behind him the entire time and watches every move Stiles makes. Stiles keeps shooting him strange looks, but doesn’t say anything until he’s told Ana Daddy loves her, and flicked the light switch. They make their way downstairs to sit on the couch and watch the three days’ worth of television that has built up on the DVR while Derek waited for Stiles to come home to watch it with him. 

“What’s up?” Stiles asks him, poking him in the side, and Derek growls playfully, tugging his finger away from Derek’s ribs and kissing it once, before collapsing on the couch. 

“I suck at it,” he says quietly finally, after a few moments of Stiles shuffling through television shows on the DVR menu. Stiles is contemplative for a moment before he pauses the television show he’s picked, and turns to face Derek.

“You don’t suck at it,” Stiles tells him, automatically knowing what Derek is talking about. This is part of why Derek loves Stiles so much. Stiles doesn’t have to _ask_ what Derek means, he just _knows_ and it makes Derek’s heart flutter inside his chest. “You’ve just never done it before. You’re the morning guy. The guy Ana will probably hate when it comes time for her to start school,” Stiles teases, a grin curling his lips upwards. Derek rolls his eyes. 

“You and Ana both weren’t used to it,” Stiles says. “And it took some adjusting. But you got there, right? When Ana grabbed the phone from you last night to talk to me she told me you were doing a good job, Derek. She’s just two and a half, she likes rituals; that’s all.” Stiles lays his head on Derek’s shoulder and traces a finger in meaningless shapes on Derek’s stomach. 

“So I wasn’t terrible at it?” Derek says, making a pleased noise in the back of his throat when Stiles lifts his shirt and makes skin on skin contact with his stomach.

Stiles murmurs, “Mm, no. You’re actually pretty good at this parenting gig.” He turns big amber eyes up to Derek, and grins again. “Who would’ve thought? Huh?” 

Derek rolls his eyes, but he kisses Stiles’ forehead and Stiles hits play on the TV, still curled up in Derek’s side. 

==

Derek starts awake when there’s a tap against his bedroom door. Lydia is standing there with her arms crossed, looking vaguely amused. “Everything okay?” Derek asks, scrubbing at his face. 

“Fine,” Lydia says meaningfully. “Talk downstairs?” She gestures towards Ana, and Derek nods, standing up and running a hand through his hair. He makes sure the blankets are still covering Ana, and follows Lydia out of the room. 

“Got a location,” she says as they reach the dining room. Scott and Jackson are sitting at the table, looking kind of horrified at Lydia for a moment, even though Derek knows they both already knew what she was capable of. He doesn’t ask what she did to get the information, just sits down at the table and faces his pack. Isaac is downstairs still with the Betas, he realizes. He turns to Scott. “I am sure whatever Lydia did will keep the Betas out of commission for long enough that Isaac can sit in on this. Go get him please.” Scott nods and scrambles out of his seat and towards the basement. 

Lydia sits down across from him. “It’ll be messy,” she warns him. “Their pack is already in the middle of a turf war. It’s been ongoing and they were starting to lose. That’s what kick started the kidnappings.” 

“Then we’ll make sure they lose,” Derek says, “permanently.” 

Lydia nods. “I’ve already contacted the packs of the other missing mates, as you know. They were all willing to help if we found the place where they were keeping them – if we found their pack. It’ll be a war, Derek. We’ll have to work with the rival pack to get in there and defeat them.”

“They shouldn’t have any problem with it, we’re helping them win,” Derek snaps. 

“We’re also stepping on what could potentially be their territory,” Lydia says calmly as Scott and Isaac make their way back into the room. “And Stiles isn’t here to do the negotiating this time.”

It’s true. While Lydia is the best at making arrangements, and just as good as Stiles at researching things – while she can come up with all the plans, Stiles is still the talker. He can negotiate with the best of them, not giving away any of his thoughts, needs, or wants while talking it out with an Alpha of a pack. It’s up to Lydia and Derek this time to convince the pack to let them in on their plans. 

“Promise them we don’t want their territory,” Derek decides, and Lydia nods, already pulling out her phone to email people. “But tell them _I_ want the Alpha,” he adds in a snarl. 

Lydia gets an email five minutes later telling her to call the Alpha of the pack, and she disappears from the room. Derek sits there, staring at the other members of his pack. “The Sheriff will watch Ana,” he decides, because he knows he can’t go without the other wolves of his pack, and he’ll need Lydia for the talking and the planning. She’d never stay behind, anyways. 

Scott jumps up. “I’ll call him,” he says, pulling his cell phone from his pocket, already dialing as he, too, disappears from the room. 

“I’ll pack Ana’s overnight bag,” Isaac says softly, also getting up. 

When it’s just Jackson and Derek, they stare at each other blankly for a moment before Jackson makes a noise in the back of his throat and looks down at the table. He traces a finger along the wood grains and says quietly, “I never realized how much he held us all together.” 

Derek inhales sharply. “I mean – we grew on each other, and we became friends. But I still just always thought of him as Stilinski, the kid who never shut up,” Jackson laughs softly. “And then he wasn’t there, and it was like there was a huge hole in our pack.” He snaps his head up. “Derek – we have to –” 

“We’re _going_ to,” Derek replies immediately, without hesitation. 

Jackson exhales. “Okay,” he says. 

==

They prepare to take the next flight out East, where the Betas and the rival pack have told them they’re stationed at. Derek takes the bruised, beaten, and still bleeding Betas to the edge of his territory and tosses them over the line. He snarls, “If you step one _foot_ inside my territory ever again, you’re dead,” and drops them. Lydia really did a number on them, Derek thinks approvingly, sort of sickly satisfied. 

The Betas scurry backwards, eyes down on the ground, and don’t look up until Derek is long gone, already back at the Hale house and shuffling Ana into her car seat to drop her off at her grandfather’s. The Sheriff takes Ana’s hand in one of his and her bag in the other, smiling fondly down at her. “We’ll be back soon,” Derek says, and swallows the lump in the back of his throat. 

“You will,” the Sheriff says confidently. “And it will all be okay, son.” He claps his hand on Derek’s shoulder, and seems to contemplate it for a moment, before he pulls Derek in for a tight hug. Derek doesn’t smell any alcohol on the Sheriff, hasn’t smelled it since Scott delivered the news that Stiles is probably still alive. 

He breathes deep and hugs back.

==

There is a moment, early in Stiles and Derek’s relationship, when they fight, long and hard, yelling and screaming at each other. Stiles throws things and loses his temper in a way that Derek has never seen him do before. He spits out absolutely foul curse words, hurls every insult in the book at Derek, and threatens to leave.

Derek is right with him, yelling and screaming and hurling his very own insults back at Stiles, but the second Stiles threatens to leave, Derek slams his mouth shut with a click. Stiles is still in a rage, yelling and waving his hands all around, pointing his finger at Derek’s chest, calling him overprotective and stifling. He still hasn’t noticed that Derek’s shut up, until a minute later, when he says, “And I’ll tell you another thing, Derek, if you think you can just _control_ me, you’re more of an idiot than I –” he cuts off when he looks up and notices that Derek hasn’t said anything still. 

He falters, watching Derek closely, like he’s not sure what Derek is going to do. 

“Don’t leave,” Derek says. 

Stiles flinches back, but he doesn’t say anything. “Don’t _leave_ ,” Derek repeats hoarsely, “Stiles – anything. I will do anything, but don’t _leave._ ” 

Stiles steps forward, carefully, tentatively, until he’s right up in Derek’s space. “Tell me,” he says shakily, “tell me why not.” 

Derek closes the space between them and kisses him roughly, lips and teeth slamming together, his fingers curling around Stiles’ hips, tightening his grip as he pushes Stiles against the nearest wall. Stiles moans loudly in his ear, and grinds down on Derek’s thigh, which is place in between his legs, and throws his head back when Derek starts nipping little love bites along Stiles’ collarbone, a chain of possessive bruises forming. 

They grind against each other, still in all their clothes, and Derek feels sixteen again, sure that Stiles does, too, frantic and rutting against one another, about to come in their fucking _pants,_ but he doesn’t care because he has to prove this, to Stiles – he has to _fight_ for Stiles, and it might not make sense to anyone else, but this is the only way Derek knows how to prove it.

Even now, after so long, he’s terrible with words unless he’s using them to hurt someone else, but he’s best with his actions. When he’s soft and affectionate with Stiles, when he makes sure to ruffle Isaac’s hair after a particularly brutal training session; when he claps Scott on the back after a long run, or brushes his hand against Jackson’s shoulder to show he cares for him when he passes him studying his anthropology class’s textbook, exhausted. 

Derek is best with actions, and he’s proving that to Stiles, proving that he will _fight_ to keep Stiles, in the way he kisses him brutally, in the way he grips Stiles’ hips, the bones creaking with his tight hold, bruises surely forming; in the way he bites stinging marks against Stiles’ neck. 

He doesn’t growl when he comes, he _sighs,_ and nuzzles his nose into Stiles’ neck as Stiles rides against his thigh, two, three short thrusts, before he’s coming, too, moaning loudly in Derek’s ear and soaking the front of his own jeans. 

“I will _always_ fight to keep you,” Derek whispers in his ear, and is rewarded with a much softer, gentler kiss this time.

==

When they arrive there’s a hard looking Alpha standing on the edge of his territory with several other Alphas waiting with their own packs. “It’s like a werewolf convention,” Jackson mutters under his breath, and both Derek and Lydia shoot him scathing glares, warning him to shut up. 

“You’re Derek?” the Alpha at the head of the group asks, and Derek nods, bowing his head to show respect to the alpha’s territory. The Alpha makes a noise in his throat, approving. “David,” he introduces himself. “These are the other packs with kidnapped members?” he gestures.

“Mates,” Derek corrects. “This pack stole the mates of _Alphas._ ” 

David rubs his thumb across his chin and looks thoughtful, then apologetic. “We had no idea,” he offers, “or we would’ve tried to end this war much sooner. Jake’s pack is… they’re very violent.” 

“They won’t be when I’m finished with them,” Derek says, and David gives him a smirk.

“I think we’ll get along just fine,” he says, and leads the packs up to his house. 

There are plans to be made, arrangements, and Lydia is at the head of it all, taking charge just like always. She has charts and graphs, and Derek swears there’s a pie chart somewhere amongst all of them, reading out their percentage of chance of survival versus fatalities. It’s nothing new, Lydia likes being thorough, but it is a little morbid to think about when Derek has a daughter to get home to, and a partner to bring home. He sits right next to Lydia, chimes in when she needs him to, and makes it clear to everyone that because his pack (mostly Lydia) found Stiles and the rest of the kidnapped mates, Jake is _his_ to kill. 

The plan is simple. They’re supposed to cross over onto Jake’s territory as one, and when the Betas come, David will give them the option of submitting or fighting. If it’s a fight, the Alpha’s of the missing mates are to get to the house as soon as possible and get their mates, and make sure they’re okay. Lydia’s chart says there’s a ninety-five percent chance that Jake’s pack will want to fight, so Derek is prepared. 

When they reach the edge of David’s territory, there are Betas with glowing yellow eyes growling and warning them away, and David steps forward another inch. “Let us through,” David says simply, “or we’ll fight.” 

“You can’t get across,” the Beta taunts. “There’s mountain ash, and protective charms all over the place.”

Derek’s head snaps up, and he glances around at the trees. He sees the first protective charm hanging from a low branch, the same symbols that Stiles uses for their own territory, their own house. When David tries to step across, like he doesn’t believe it’s true, he’s thrown back, and he gets up off the ground with a snarl. Derek meets eyes with Lydia, then Jackson, Scott and Isaac, and they all nod in understanding. 

These charms were _made_ for Derek to break. He steps forward, not over the line yet. “Go ahead,” the same Beta says, flashing a grin. “Try it.” 

Derek is across the line of mountain ash, past the protective charms, in an instant, and he rounds on the taunting Beta, reaching his arms around the Beta’s neck and snapping it cleanly, leaving him to fall to the ground. “Looks like you’re wrong,” Lydia coos, still on the other side. Jackson and Isaac are already on the other side, taking care of the remaining three Betas before they can even get a howl out to signal the breach of territory to the other pack members. Derek knows it won’t be long until Jake notices there’s something wrong, so he signals to Lydia and tells her, “Break the line. Pull the charms down.” 

Lydia nods and does it swiftly, while Derek races towards the Alpha’s house, towards _Stiles._ The growing feeling of nervousness, excitement, flutters in Derek’s stomach, and he swallows a growl back at the frustration that it’s taking so long to get to Stiles. Jackson and Isaac are right behind him, and Lydia is right next to him, keeping up with him. Derek isn’t surprised. Being human has never held Lydia back. It certainly won’t now, when her best friend is involved. 

When they reach the house, the other packs have caught up, and Jake is standing on the porch, eyes glowing red. Derek takes a moment to really take him in. He doesn’t look purely evil, like Derek thought he would. He’s actually handsome, with a devilish smile, and he’s strong and well trained, Derek can tell in the way he holds himself. A snarl rips out of his throat when he’s finished taking him in, and Lydia places a hand on his shoulder.

“This isn’t our battle to fight,” Lydia calls to Jake, stepping forward only a little, with Jackson shifting into a protective stance right beside her. “Give us who we came for, and we’ll leave you to your own battle. If not, well, then…” Lydia gestures to the Alphas standing behind her, who have all come with two or three of their own Betas. She gestures to David, and his entire pack, standing there itching for the fight. “You’re severely outnumbered,” she says sweetly, with a smile, eyes shining brightly. 

Jake smiles. “And who did you come for?” Derek is surprised when his voice comes out rich and charming, even though he shouldn’t be. 

David growls, “Everyone. This is unacceptable, Jake. This is not a fair fight – kidnapping the _mates_ of other Alphas in surrounding areas.” 

Jake studies his claws as he stands there and Derek can’t even believe it. Before Stiles, he did some pretty dramatic things, but this takes the cake, Derek thinks. There’s still a smirk curling at his lips, and when he looks back up, his eyes are even redder. Derek growls in retaliation. “I think it’s only fair,” Jake says, “to take the mates of other Alphas for this. To let them feel the same pain. After all, David,” he says as he gives David a wicked, withering look. “You did take mine.” 

“She tried to kill me, Jake. And she lost.” 

Derek growls again. “Even talk,” he snarls. “Let us through, or we’ll get there by force.” 

Jake looks at him, looks him up and down, and then turns to look at Lydia, who is standing there, looking on at him stoically. “The Hale pack,” he guesses, tapping a finger to his chin. “Right?” 

Derek doesn’t say anything. Scott whines, and Derek knows exactly why. He can smell Stiles, the stench of Stiles’ fear and anxiety. Six months, he’s been here, Derek thinks. That’s long enough for his smell to start to sink into everything, and it has. “He told me about you,” Jake continues. “Told me how he’s pretty much your little _bitch,_ Hale. Does all the work for you, because he’s the only human. Except for the redhead,” Jake points to Lydia. “Apparently she’s immune.” 

Jackson growls. Derek knows Stiles never told Jake any of those things – that he’d have kept his mouth shut no matter what they threatened to do to him. But it still grates him, that Jake knows these things about their pack, about Stiles, and Lydia. It grates on him that Jake refers to Stiles as his _bitch._

“Apparently you needed him, though,” Lydia says to Jake, sickeningly sweet. “Must have needed someone to be _your_ bitch, too.” 

Derek can almost hear the way Stiles would laugh if he heard her. 

Jake’s eyes flash and his canines start to lengthen. 

It’s an imperceptible nod that motions the fight, barely seen by anyone, but both Derek and Jackson notice at the same time, and the signal the other packs to be ready. The first of Jake’s Betas come flying out of nowhere, hurling for Jackson, but Jackson takes care of him with the swipe of his claws across his throat. 

The thing about Jake’s Betas, Derek has noticed, is that they’re almost all newly turned, and they’re _terrible_ at fighting. Derek searches for Jake, who has seemingly disappeared, and keeps an eye on his own Betas and Lydia at the same time. Lydia has pulled her knife out and is handling herself pretty well, when she gets the chance, because in addition to Jackson fighting off his own enemies, he’s trying to fight hers, too. Isaac is handling his own pretty well, and Scott is tearing through almost as many Betas as Jackson is, slow and steady, with the other packs helping. 

“Derek,” David shouts, and nods towards the tree line, where Jake is trying to run. “Go!” 

Derek takes off. He’s on Jake in a moment, and he tackles him. Jake throws him off and jumps up, claws already swiping. “Don’t worry,” he says, “I’ll make sure he only misses you a little bit.”

Anger soars through Derek, and he snarls, circling Jake, watching his every move carefully. It’s all about signals, Derek tells himself. A feinting step to the right before Jake circles to the left. A supposed weak left side when it’s actually his strongest side. Derek guesses that he’s been through more battles than Jake, that Jake is only in this for the revenge against David’s pack. He knows he can do this. 

Jake feints to the right before trying to swing left, but Derek is already there, tackling him. Jake snarls, snaps his teeth at Derek, but Derek bites into him, shuts him up, and then tears his throat out. He feels a surge of power soar through him, extra power from Jake’s death, as the red flashes out of his eyes. 

There’s howls signaling that Jake’s Betas have all figured out he’s dead, and Derek runs back to the crowd. The other Alphas are already in the house. Scott shouts, “He’s inside! Isaac’s getting him, helping him down the stairs.” 

Derek pushes past Scott and runs into the house, where the other Alphas are all reuniting with their mates. He sees Isaac with one arm around Stiles’ waist, helping him down the stairs. Derek takes in a deep breath before surging forward. Stiles’ cheek is bruised, he has a black eye and a split lip, and, Derek thinks, taking him in, probably broken ribs; maybe a sprained ankle. 

“What the hell happened?” Derek snarls. Stiles looks up and smiles weakly. 

“Well,” Stiles says. “I never could keep my mouth shut.” 

Derek rushes forward and kisses him. 

==

Ana cries when she Stiles steps out of the car.

It’s been three weeks; because David insisted they stay with them until Stiles could walk without having to lean on someone, and until his bruises ‘wouldn’t scare his daughter away.’ Stiles doesn’t tell them much about what happened while he was kidnapped, just that he mouthed off a couple times, and Jake and his pack weren’t impressed because the mountain ash and the charms they forced Stiles to make and use weren’t working as well as they wanted them to. There’s a look in his eyes that Derek feels like he’s going to have to work forever to get rid of again.

Stiles jumps every time someone opens the door or touches his shoulder from behind him, but he smiles just as quickly, realizing that they’re members of _his_ pack; that they’re there to keep him _safe._ Derek holds his hand and curls close to him, when he has a nightmare, and Stiles will sniffle into his shoulder and cling just as tightly. 

“ _Daddy,_ ” Ana cries, and Stiles lifts her up even though his ribs are still bruised, healing slowly. He kisses all over her face, and Ana sobs into his shoulder. “Daddy,” she sniffles, cuddling into him. The Sheriff steps off the porch, tears shining in his eyes, and claps Derek on the shoulder before reeling him in for a hug. Then he walks over and hugs Stiles even tighter. 

They’re on their way into the house when Ana looks up from where she’s nuzzled her face into Stiles’ neck and says, “Daddy does this mean you’re back from Heaven?”

Stiles looks at Derek wide-eyed, who points to Lydia, who just keeps her smile pasted on her face.

“Yeah, baby,” Stiles says, brushing her hair back. “And I’m not going back for a long, long time, okay?”

Derek breathes out.

**Author's Note:**

> Alleged character death is the entire pack believing Stiles is dead, even though he isn't, because a rival pack has kidnapped Stiles for their own use, and led everyone to believe he's dead.


End file.
